Regrets Collect Like Old Friends
by EvelynEvelyn
Summary: There comes a point when Effie can't forgive Haymitch anymore. • Hayffie •
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I know it's been announced that Effie will be in 13 (i'm super excited for all the Hayffie interactions!) but for this story I'm sticking to the original MJ hint that Effie was captured by the Capitol.**

**The rating for this story may go up by the last chapter. And if you spot any spelling mistakes or typos I'm sorry! But I have no beta reader :(**

**tumblr:off-with-her-head**

**I own nothing. (not even Effie's fab wigs *sobs*)**

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Part 1 - High Heels & New Beginnings.

She was angry, Haymitch knew she would be. Besides when was she _not_ angry when it came to him. Over the years of working together he'd come to the realization that no matter what, Effie would always find something to complain about.

Whether it was his lack of so called manners or his over indulgence when it came to drinking, he could do no right in her eyes. She was the Capitols favourite escort and he was just a _'has been'_ victor. Sure, there were those who still wanted his attention, but he hadn't played the part. His reputation as a foul mouthed drunk preceded him.

Then there was his less than desired attitude as a mentor. Unlike others he didn't see the point in trying to helping the kids, being from twelve they never stood a chance anyway. Nor did he bother trying to get sponsors for his tributes. The only chance the tributes had was Effie when it came down to smooching sponsors. Unfortunately twelve's dismal track record in the Hunger Games out weighed even _her_ charms.

The children- as Effie referred to them as- were asleep, and apart from the occasional Avox that wandered wordlessly in and out, he was alone.

It was rare for him to get a moment to himself when the Games were on, so he took advantage of the situation by trying to get even drunker than usual. Alcohol was the only thing that stopped his mind ticking away, over thinking and dwelling about the past were never options.

Thinking was dangerous, as for sleeping, he hadn't had a decent nights sleep in years. So drinking himself into oblivion was the most logical solution.

But as always the flamboyant escort hindered his plans, and she wasn't even _in_ the Penthouse. And it was precisely her lack of presence that worried him, even if he'd rather stick pins in his skin than admit it.

Grey eyes glanced at the clock hanging on the garish designed wall opposite, it was getting far to late. Even by Capitol standards, any party would of ended by now- especially with the Games having not even properly begun yet.

He was torn between finishing off a bottle of whiskey or actually going out to find her. Even if he knew the latter would be virtually impossible. Apart from the parties organised specifically for the Games, he had no idea where else Effie ventured in the Capitol.

They'd been colleges for years, but he only spent time with her during the Games, and with twelve s tributes usually dead by the second day, it was never for longer than a couple of weeks a year. He didn't even know where she lived for the rest of the time. Probably some place quintessentially 'capitol', the thought made him grimace.

Taking a gulp from the bottle, his eyes found the clock once again, it was half three in the morning. That was it, he was going to find her. He could always take the bottle with him, then she could scold him for public drunkenness and they'd be even.

She was already angry though, he reminded himself. He frowned, maybe that's why she wasn't back yet. They always argued though, it's what made them, well, _them_.

This particular argument had been particularly brutal though. He knew by now how to get to her, and in his own annoyance his remarks had been particularly scathing. That much was obvious when she'd stormed out of the Penthouse.

Effie never left without getting the last word in, and no matter what she stuck around to help him when he was a drunken mess. Maybe that was why he was hesitant about drinking further without her being nearby. Not that he'd ever admit to needing her help.

Just as he forced himself to stand up, swaying slightly, the penthouse door open. Immediately his eyes focused in on the sound.

Even if he knew it would be Effie, his lingering paranoia made him wish he hadn't left his knife in his room.

Tensing for a second, his shoulders finally slumped as he spotted the tell tale lavender wig.

From the way she held herself - or lack of- it was clear she hadn't noticed him standing there. Curiously he watched as she carelessly removed her heels, using the wall for balance.

No, she defiantly thought she was alone. There was no way she'd behave so unlike herself, if she knew she was being watched. It made him wonder about how Effie was when she was alone, _really_ alone.

He'd always imagined her being as rigid as ever, but he guessed that not even Effie could go through life without letting her hair down once an a while- not that he'd ever seen her real hair.

As she made her way further into the room, he cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow smugly as she jumped, slightly startled.

"Haymitch!" she hissed, her hand over her heart as she tried to calm her breathing "Don't you know it's _rude_ to scare someone like that!" her high pitch capitol accent made him wince "What on earth are you doing lingering here in the darkness anyway?" she asked once she'd composed herself again.

Haymitch could tell that the real Effie who he's seen for a few second earlier was now replaced by the capital farce he was used to. Her back straightened, and she had a hand on her hips as she stood right in front of him.

The only thing different was that without her heels, Effie was really quite short, something he'd failed to realize before now. It was quite amusing-adorable even- but he ignored the voice in his head.

"Well excuse me, sweetheart" he drawled lazily, taking a sip from his bottle just to get a reaction. And from the way her eyes narrowed, he couldn't help but smirk triumphantly "but I'm not the one stayin' out all night, leaving the rest of us to worry"

He watched as she tried to school her features " I don't recall you informing anyone when you're off on one of your drunken rampages" she rebuffed, annoyed.

"Oh? So you were out on a _drunken rampage?_" he replied without missing a beat, mimicking her accent as he repeated her precise wording.

Effie could never be a poker player, whatever emotion she was feeling, it was always in full display. And from the slight tinge of red beneath the white powder on her face, it was clear she was embarrassed

"How dare you! Of course I was not!" she sounded utterly offended. Good.

"For your information I was..." she trailed off, and he had every intention of sarcastically remarking on her lack of manners, but she beat him to speaking "Actually, _no_, it's neither here nor there what I have been doing, it's none of _your_ business, Haymitch"

Rolling his eyes, Haymitch mockingly toasted the bottle in her direction. Feigning ignorance, thought he made a mental note to question her again when her mood wasn't so foul.

"Whatever, Trinket, just next time you decide to go AWOL, let someone know" he continued, slumping back down on the sofa with his back to her.

"How touching, it almost sounds like you were concerned about my well being" she retorted bitterly "but from what you said earlier we both know that you're incapable of such emotion"

Shutting his eyes, Haymitch cringed as he recalled their argument. It was the reason, or so he guessed, why Effie had stayed out so late.

It had started as it always did, her moaning about his manners and him biting back with a remark about her clownish appearance. But it had turned into something much worse. He'd called her a ' child snatcher' and told her he thought the only reason she was an escort was because she was upset about not having her own children.

It had gone to far.

Glancing over his shoulder, he kept his expression sombre then without thinking he motioned with his free hand for her to join him on the sofa. He could tell she was debating whether to accept or not.

But as usual when it came to him she caved and moved to sit next to him on the sofa. She kept her distance though, which he didn't like, she practically sat on the edge as if being near him repelled her.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled, hoping he sounded sincere. Her only reaction was to huff indigently, so he reached for her hands that were resting on her lap

"Effie, you _know_ I didn't mean it" he added, absent-mindedly stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "You'll be a _great_ mother one day"

There was a pregnant pause, but she finally turned to look at him. Now that they were closer, he could see where her make up had smudged slightly. She'd been crying. The thought made him feel something he couldn't explain. But he had this overwhelming need to make it right.

Without thinking he reached up to cup her cheek "_Haymitch"_ she whispered cautiously, and he could tell is uncharacteristic gentleness was confusing her. He'd blame it on the alcohol later, or the way the way his name sounded when she spoke him made him feel, but right now he wanted, needed, to kiss her, so he did just that.

It was chaste and Effie didn't respond, but something sparked when their lips met. And if he could kiss her forever, Haymitch knew he'd be lost in the feel of her lips. Pulling away, he grinned mischievously at her shocked expression.

Shaking his head he separated from her again, picking up the bottle he'd discarded on the table.

After a moment or two, Effie finally spoke "Well then..." she smoothed down the front of her dress " Like you said, it's late" Clearly this was going to be another one of those moments between them that went unspoken. He'd almost lost count now, so many little touches and smiles that neither one brought up again after they happened. Sometimes he even doubted that they'd happened.

Abruptly, Effie stood up, but the small smile on her face was warm and genuine. Haymitch let go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. She forgave him.

"I'd like..." she stopped speaking and waved her hands in front of her. Whatever she wanted to say, she was having some difficulty conveying it and she soon gave up.

Effie walked around the sofa, but stopped as she reached the doorway that would lead to the corridor for her room.

"Haymitch, I left my shoes by the door, could you be a dear and bring them to my _room_ before anyone sees"

Now _that_ got his attention, maybe it was because he'd had too much to drink, but he could of sworn her words held a double meaning. It sounded like an invitation.

He turned to where she'd been standing but Effie was already gone.

If he accepted this would change things. He was letting someone in, and that was dangerous.

Alone once again, he debated for a minute, before finishing his drink and going to retrieve Effie's precious shoes. He couldn't help but shake his head at them. They looked like they could eat him, how that woman walked about in such monstrosities was beyond him.

He'd already let Effie in years ago and the lingering feel of her soft lips on his didn't help matters either.


	2. Chapter 2

** A/N; Wrote this quickly instead of finishing off my last essay for university, opps (and It's an extension as well) . So again, apologies for the grammar/spelling mistakes. This chapter doesn't really have much happening in it, but it's the final two chapters that have the main 'goings on' or whatever for the plot. This is more of a filler chapter. Enjoy anyway!**

**Disclaimer; I own nothing.**

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Part 2 - Pillow Talk & Hope

"Do you actually think we stand a chance this year?"

Effie's voice broke the silence that had only just begun to fall between them. She never could keep quiet for long, not that Haymitch minded. Her endless chatter was a distraction, it made whatever this was between them seem less consequential.

It had been five years since they started sleeping together, and he'd long ago given up on convincing himself he didn't care about her. And that made everything all the more dangerous.

With Effie tucked into his side, and an arm carelessly draped over his bare chest, he frowned but didn't open his eyes. He contemplated Effie's question for a few seconds, surprised she'd brought up such a morbid subject now.

"The girl, yes" he answered truthfully. He'd seen potential in Katniss unlike he'd seen come out of district twelve before. Apart from himself, he never thought they'd have another victor. The only thing that could hold her back was the less than enthusiastic attitude she had.

But, who was he to talk about such things. Defiance had been his downfall after his games.

If Katniss _did_ win, she'd have to learn to play the game outside of the arena. Otherwise she'd loose everything, just like he had.

"They have names you know, _honestly_, Haymitch" Effie half heartedly hit his chest and he could almost imagine her rolling her eyes at him. Something very uncouth, as she would say, and never done if she thought he was watching her.

He felt Effie shift, and then sigh, which usually meant she wanted him to be more sociable. But Haymitch had never seen much appeal in pillow talk, and if this was the best Effie had, well he'd rather just try to sleep. Until the nightmares kicked in.

Opening one eye, he spied as she untangled herself from his body and moved to sit against the headboard. The covers brought up just enough to hide her modesty.

"I like Peeta" she began, smiling as she thought of the male tribute "He's such a sweet boy, so well mannered, I hope you don't dismiss him just because you have more hope in Katniss"

She looked down just as he closed his eyes again, and this time she full on whacked him "Haymitch!" she shouted, her shrill capital accent making him cringe "Are you even listening to me? This is serious, I don't want Peeta loosing out _bec-_"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, sweetheart" he interrupted, and watched with amusement as she clenched and unclenched her jaw. Clearly she was trying to hold back yelling at his lack of manners when interrupting her.

Turning on his side, he finally pushed himself so he was sitting on edge of Effie's bed, his back to her. "I'll keep an eye on them both" which is more than he'd ever down for any other tribute from twelve.

"Promise me, Haymitch" the seriousness in her tone made him tense, and he nodded. But something didn't sit well with her barking orders. Maybe it was the lack of alcohol in his system, it'd been at least three hours since his last drink, and he already felt awful.

"But if you want your fame, notoriety and I'm guessing promotion to a better district, then I suggest you let me train Katniss alone" he added, without thinking.

Haymitch knew it'd been the wrong thing to say instantly, the air in the room seemed to change and Haymitch didn't need to be looking at Effie to know he'd hurt her feelings.

That was the thing about Effie, unlike other escorts he knew that she genuinely cared about each and every tribute. He'd heard her enough times over the years crying in her room when one died.

She was an enigma he couldn't figure out. On one hand she was a poster girl for everything the capitol stood for, but her bond with the children she herself picked for the Games was un-questionable. He often wondered if it was something she purposely did.

Escorts were notorious for their aloof and cold attitude towards tributes. Yet, Effie was maternal as ever when it came to them, as if she wanted to make whatever time they had left as pleasant as it could be.

"What did you say?"

Once again, his thoughts were broken by the same woman he was dwelling about. A quick glance over his shoulder told him all he needed to know; she wasn't happy.

"Look, I'm _sorry,_ it doesn't matter, can we just drop the subject?" but he knew he wouldn't be let off that easy.

"How _dare_ you, Haymitch! For you information I actually care about the children, and have done since day one!" she shouted, her accent coming out stronger than usual "Unlike yourself, when Have you _ever_ shown any consideration when it came to these children? _I say_ Haymitch, talk about the pot calling kettle black"

Now that made him smirk, only Effie could scream and rant with such polite insults. But he knew her limits, and he'd undoubtedly hit a nerve. Shrugging, there was no reasoning with her when she was in this mood. So he stood up, putting on his boxers and collecting his clothes that'd been thrown on the floor beside the bed hours ago.

But just before he reached the door, a much quieter voice pulled him back.

"Wait..."

Turning around, he tried to figure out what was going through Effie's mind. But even without all that clown makeup on her face, she was as unreadable as ever. "you're right, we shouldn't be talking about this"

His brows shot up at those words, what did she mean? Surely Effie wasn't so clued in to what was going on in the world around them to know how having open conversations about the Games was risky. "Will you stay here tonight, please" she finished before he could question her on the subject.

Shaking his head, Haymitch decided to leave such serious talk for another time. Right now, Effie Trinket, the real Effie Trinket, with natural golden locks and naturally pale skin, wanted him to stay with her. And that's exactly what he did, always.

Settling back, he instantly wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head before shutting his eyes again.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, but just as he was about to doze off, Effie decided to speak.

"When I was fist assigned to District twelve I was _so_ disappointed" she said out of no where, and Haymitch couldn't help but chuckle. That was an understatement. He recalled her telling him just as much the first year they worked together.

"You don't say so, sweetheart"

Tightening his grip around her waist, Haymitch tried to push away dark thoughts of Effie actually leaving him. Even if they spent most of the time arguing, they clicked. And it somehow worked.

"But even if they offered me district one tomorrow, I wouldn't take it" she admitted, and Haymitch found himself frowning again. On one hand they were the words he wanted to hear, but he knew how risky it would be if she turned down any offer to a better district.

"Effie..." he wanted to express the danger in her words, but this time it was him who was interrupted.

"I know Haymitch, I couldn't of course" He opened her eyes as he felt her snuggle closer to him "I'm not as clueless as you all believe me to be" she whispered, so quietly he wasn't sure if she'd even said it.

Haymitch hoped she had imagined it. It would be safer for Effie to be the naive escort she was supposed to be, or at least to play the part of one. "You don't need to tell me that, sweetheart...just, keep the on the mask and stay..." trailing off he felt sick at the thought of Effie dying, or being hurt by anyone, just because she cared for these tributes or understood more of the nature of the Hunger Games than she let on.

"Stay safe" he whispered, planting a soft kiss on her shoulder "For me"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N; So this was meant to be much longer and the last chapter, but as always I had a new idea pop into my head. So there will be at least two more chapters after this one. I was listening to good old Marilyn Manson's Mechanical Animals album while writing this, hence the title and general Effie angst. **

**& remember any spelling/typos etc etc are _entirely_ my fault and I ask that you ignore them.**

**On another note I'm in the middle of writing a 'Maleficent' one shot, seriously how amazing was that movie?! Anyway, the screaming part in this chapter was inspired by *SPOILER ALERT* the scene in the movie after she realises her wings have been stolen.**

**Disclaimer; blah blah blah, nothing belongs to me, sadly.**

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Part 3 - The Speed of Pain

It was funny, from all the fairy tales she'd read as a child, prison was not how she expected it to be. In those stories they were depicted as dark and morbid, but her own cell was quite the opposite. Bright lights filled the small room she was held it, and it was almost clinical in its cleanliness. Only the Capitol would provide such a warped version of a jail.

Effie would sometimes find it grotesquely alluring, and even trick herself into believing that she wasn't really being held somewhere against her will. That if this truly was a prison then the guards wouldn't clean the cell each time she was sent away to be interrogated. Maybe it was her imagination, or she was delirious from the lack of food provided there.

But each time she returned, any blood stains she herself had left were gone. And there was no mistaking the smell of bleach or whatever they used to scrub the place down.

Even in this living hell, it seemed the Capitol wouldn't tolerate a bad image.

With each passing day there was a different torture, so it shouldn't of been so much of a surprise when she was thrown back into her cell unceremoniously one day, that the lights were gone.

The pit of Effie's stomach churned with anticipation. It had to be some sort of game. Surely they would know that darkness would be a welcome revive from the harsh lights. So if she even dared to get somewhat comfortable they would be switched back on, burning her eyes with their unrelenting brightness.

There was no telling how much time passed, but after a while of just sitting there, rigid against the wall furtherest from the door, Effie found herself drifting. This new atmosphere making her already drained and frail body unable to resist the lure of unconsciousness.

The second her shoulders slumped, brightness returned.

And she _screamed_.

She knew it was what they wanted, to see her break. And until now, even during the electrocutions and other forms of torture she endured daily, Effie had not given them the satisfaction. But something so insignificant as light, she couldn't handle. Not now, not any more.

Perhaps it was the hidden masochist within her, but all she could think about was the _'bright'_ and fake personality she'd worn every day during her time as an Escort.

She had been a perfect example of a Capitol woman and never let even the most violent of deaths she'd witnessed crack her mask. But as her screams became louder, visions of all those children she'd picked for their deaths filled her mind. And she couldn't help but replay each of their miserable demises one by one without fault.

She was a murderer.

It didn't matter how much she made herself believe she cared for those tributes. Or if she was kinder to them than most. Effie knew that ultimately it was by her hand they'd had their already short lives terminated. And she hated herself for it.

Usually she could hide behind endless chatter and parties, but alone, she could do nothing but think. It dawned on her that she'd been hiding her guilt behind her façade, and now stripped bare both physically and mentally; there was no where to escape from the truth.

Once perfectly manicured nails, now nothing but short stub's, dug into her arms as she pressed her face against the cool surface of the wall. Her screams stopped, but her thoughts did not. Effie's mind grew hazy, and she clenched her eyes shut, seeking oblivion that she knew would never come.

She _disgusted_ herself.

Fundamentally she knew she was no better than the people keeping her here. She was one of them, she was a loathsome creature. And she couldn't stand it any longer. The torture she could handle,but being left alone with herself. It made her sick, _she_ made herself sick.

How long had passed? Minutes, hours days, months? Time was playing tricks on her. So when the door opened, instead of finding herself frightened, she was relieved. Maybe they could purge the thoughts from her mind. They'd already burned, whipped and electrocuted her emancipated body.

She need to escape herself.

It was madness, to think in such a way, Effie knew. But who could blame her if she'd lost her mind. What else was she to do?

Besides she'd been brought up in a world where watching children fight to the death was perfectly normal.

Maybe she wasn't going mad, maybe she'd always been. It was a horribly mad world anyway.

•

"Oh my god"

Those three words penetrated her frazzled mind, and she recognised the voice that has spoken them. Yet, couldn't put a face to it.

Even the footsteps that approached her sounded hauntingly familiar. They weren't guards, they were someone else eniterly, someone she'd known long ago.

"Sweetheart?"

Effie's mind came to a stand still.

Flashes of dirty blonde hair and the smell of alcohol.

Blank eyes stared straight ahead she she felt rather than saw the man kneeling down next to her. No, she wouldn't, _couldn't_ look at him.

"Effie?"

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she shook her head.

"_Go away_" she hissed, her voice hoarse from screaming.

There was no rationality to be had, so when she felt a strong pair of hands try to lift her up, she did what had become her usual routine; she struggled.

Screaming, kicking and biting as much as her frail body could.

While the person she fought against carried her out of the cell, whispering in her ear apologies she didn't want to hear.

"You _left_ me behind" she cried, before feeling the pin prick of a needle, and finally oblivion was granted.


End file.
